The Sick Rose
by Sakura's Pointe Shoes
Summary: My take on the Milos Forman film, "Goya's Ghosts." Lorenzo is kinder, and Ines falls in love with him. Also, she does not end up in prison for the rest of her life.
1. Chapter 1

"The Sick Rose"

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Goya's Ghosts, Ines Bilbatua or her family, or Father Lorenzo. I don't own "The Sick Rose" either. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: The title was borrowed from William Blake's gorgeous poem.

_O Rose thou art sick.  
The invisible worm.  
That flies in the night  
In the howling storm:_

Has found out thy bed  
Of crimson joy;  
And his dark secret love  
Does thy life destroy.

Summary: I love the movie Goya's Ghosts, and this will not make sense to you unless you have seen the movie. I also love Nat Portman and Javier Bardem, but I was a bit disappointed by the cruel character he played. I give you my version of Goya's Ghosts, rewritten with a kinder Lorenzo, and Ines does not spend fifteen years in jail.

* * *

Chapter One: The Flaws of Innocence

* * *

She shouldn't have made such a stupid mistake. When she stepped into the ominous looking building, she felt instinctively like she was in trouble. However, the calming tones and sympathetic expressions of the monks lulled her into adopting a false sense of security. They questioned her innocently at first, she was not expecting them to lash out at her the way they did. She did not think that they would make such an enormous deal over her refusal to eat pork, simply because she really did not like the taste of it.

And when they asked her if she would take an opportunity to prove herself, she had stupidly, naively _agreed _to it.

She did not know they would torture her into admitting she practiced Judaism, or that she would be stripped of her gown and thrown into a filthy dungeon with her ankle shackled to the stone wall.

Ines Bilbatua lay curled up with her bruised arms wrapped around herself, silently weeping. She did not want to attract anymore attention to herself, so she bit down hard on her lower lip to stifle her sobs. The cell was dank and reeked of human excrement, there were rats lurking in the shadows that feasted on the corpses of dead prisoners.

Ines closed her eyes tightly, trying to remember what it felt like to be outside beneath the sunlight and breathing fresh air. She let out a shuddering exhalation of breath when she realized she couldn't. She could not remember how long it had been since they threw her down here, or how long it had been since her father kissed her for the last time, or when she embraced her dear mother.

It was too late to think about that now. She'd never see them again, she was convinced of it. If there was a god, he surely would not let her suffer so badly. She almost laughed, she had arrived here accused as a heretic, and the thoughts that flitted through her head now were only just starting to turn blasphemous.

Minutes passed.

It felt like days.

Occassionally, the guards would venture her way and throw her scraps of food. She hungrily accepted whatever they gave, she had long gotten over her natural pickiness. She had to survive somehow, when it rained and water seeped through the cracks of the ceiling, she readily opened her mouth to catch the drops.

She waited mostly. Recited the alphabet in Spanish, English, French and Latin. Recited all of the prayers she knew, not because she still believed them, but because she needed to channel her mind in some sort of coherent direction. If there was one thing she feared, it was losing her mind because of this place. She stubbornly refused to become submissive to the conditions of her wrongful imprisonment, even though she inadvertently was responsible for it.

The most dreadful part about it all was the sounds that she picked up from the other corridors. It was very dim most of the time, so she could not make out what exactly was happening. Perhaps it was worse that way. The frightening noises-- the moans of pain, murmurs of insanity, cries of desperation-- kicked her already overactive imagination into overdrive. She was subject to images of horrid monsters, no longer human, but demons.

In times like these, she learned to tune everything out. Ines was grateful that at least she was not being hung upside down with her arms twisted painfully behind her. She could still feel where her bones threatened to tear out through her skin, her muscles were sore and extremely tender from the trauma they sustained.

Suddenly, her sensitive ears heard footsteps nearing her. The vibrations echoed along the cold stone floor, she quickly scrambled up and backed into the darkened corner, hoping whoever it was would ignore her and go away.

The voice that succeeded the footsteps was surprisingly gentle.

"No, no, don't be afraid. I won't hurt you." It said mildly, soothingly. She thought she could get lost in that voice.

Still, she said nothing, half of her still fearful that the man might do if she came forward. Ines pulled her dirty knees to her chest and waited to see what would happen next.

The man came forward instead, offering her his heavy overcoat. She sat limply as he put it around her, doing the best he could while simultaneously trying to ignore her nudity. Ines frowned until she realized that the man who was visiting her was a priest, and therefore a potential enemy. She stared at him analytically, watching for any signs of danger as he knelt down, still avoiding her gaze.

"Are you Ines Bilbatua?" He questioned softly.

A beat, and then she decided to answer.

"Yes."

"I have come to see if I can be of some assistance. I am Lorenzo, I can deliver a message to your family if you wish."

At the mention of her family, she perked up noticeably. He was compelled to look at her. He could not help but feel pity for the young girl, she looked so undeniably sad. He supposed that given the circumstances, he could not blame her.

"Please, sir, will you really?" Ines whispered as if she were afraid to hear the answer. Her bottom lip quivered involuntarily as she tugged the warm fleece garment around herself a little tighter. She knew she looked absolutely atrocious, despite weeks of imprisonment, she still held onto what little vanity she had leftover. She was suddenly ashamed of her undignified appearance in front of a man, even if he was just a priest.

He seemed to sense her discomfort, so he simply bent down and offered his ear to her.

"Will you tell my…my father that I love him? And my mother and my brothers too. Tell them that every time I close my eyes, I pray to God that I will see them again…" She sobbed a little then, the images of her beloved family too overwhelming for her to bear.

Lorenzo usually did not sympathize with prisoners of the Inquisition, yet he found that there was something about this girl that was unlike any other heretic he had encountered before. He tried to remember that this girl practiced Judaism and had even gone so far as to confess to it when she was put to the "Question."

For the meantime, all he could do was gently rock her in consolation and promise her that he would deliver her message to her family. She cried, prayed and begged for him to help her get out, but all he could do was offer her platitudes that were as useless to her as open skies for a bird with clipped wings.

Lorenzo left the Holy Office with a heavy heart. He definitely had his work cut out for him, for he decided he would try to help Ines Bilbatua regain her freedom.

* * *

After the whole incident with the Bilbatua patriarch, Lorenzo's head reeled with doubt and confusion. Everything he believed-or everything he was taught to believe-had been unraveled as swiftly as a loosely wound knot. He always thought his faith and fear in God was stronger than any earthly force, but clearly his tolerance for pain did not match the level of his piety. He accepted Bilbatua's handsome sum and brought it to the Holy Office the very next day, hoping that his superiors would take the sum without any scruples and release the girl so they could carry on with their lives as if they were never disrupted.

"There is one condition, however, Bilbatua demands the safe return of his daughter, Ines." Lorenzo admitted quietly, he fought the urge to fidget and was half fearful of the impending answer. The other monks stared at him suspiciously, their hard eyes glittering like obsidian rocks. He could feel the distrust in the musty air, it smelled of old parchment and ink.

The old cardinal exhaled audibly, looking as tired as Lorenzo felt inside. His wrinkles were even more pronounced in the dim candlelight, the somber look in his eyes gave Lorenzo no semblance of hope.

"I see. Is she with us?"

Lorenzo was ready to reply but he was cut off by Brother Sebastian, a seedy, gaunt looking man who never hesitated in asserting his opinion. Lorenzo never did like the look of this man, he thought contemptuously as he listened to his nasal words.

"Yes she is. She is a heretic, as well as one of Francisco de Goya's whores. She confessed to being a secret practitioner of Judaism and she is down in the dungeons."

Father Gregorio nodded, brow bent, as he pondered the situation.

"I take it that she has been put to the 'question'?"

This time, Lorenzo could see where the conversation was heading and immediately intervened.

"Yes, Your Grace. However, I believe we would do well to remember her tender age. A female so young and impressionable would be quick to confess a falsity rather than endure more pain. She probably did not even realize what she had confessed to." He kept his tone purposely gentle as he was speaking from experience this time.

"Sebastian, you oversaw her during the procedure. Was she not hysterical and delirious? Was she in her right mind?" Lorenzo questioned intently, trying to prove his point.

Sebastian nodded reluctantly. Lorenzo felt like he might have turned the tide singlehandedly despite the doubt remaining on his fellow priests' faces.

He turned to look at Gregorio again and dared to hope that he would do as he suggested. His entire future as a man of the cloth depended on this. If the cardinal refused Tomas Bilbatua's request, Lorenzo knew the merchant would not think twice about using the 'monkey' contract to blackmail him. So Lorenzo gripped fistfuls of his robes tensely as he waited for the verdict, willing the cardinal with all his might to grant the girl release from prison.

"No."

His entire world might as well have come crashing down.

"Tell him that the Holy Office is very grateful for his donation, but if we release her, it would suggest that the Catholic Church doubts the power of 'the question.' It would be a breach of the very foundations of our faith."

And just like that, the moment ended and everyone rose to leave. Lorenzo sat in his chair, paralyzed. Soon, it was just him and Father Gregorio left in the chilly room. He did not realize how crushed he must have looked, for the cardinal moved over to him and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I _am_ sorry Lorenzo. It is not your fault that the girl is where she is. That is between her and God." He murmured with the faintest hint of condescension in his tone.

"Please, Your Grace. To allow an innocent lamb to remain locked up, waiting to be slaughtered, would be more of a sin than releasing her. There must be something _I_ could do-" An idea struck him then, "I could re-educate the girl in the ways of Christianity myself. To ensure that she will not slip into old habits."

The cardinal appeared obviously skeptical as well as startled.

"What? That would be…unorthodox, to say the least…Well, you were always unorthodox, I suppose, Lorenzo. I trust your intentions are," He gave a good pause for effect, "strictly theological?"

Lorenzo's dark eyes flashed characteristically at the old man's subtle jab. He realized, though, that giving the cardinal the wrong impression may actually help him achieve his endgame.

"My intentions are to educate a beautiful, young heretic in the ways of our faith." He injected some perversity into his voice for good measure.

The cardinal still had not been totally won over.

"Surely a task like this would be better suited to a nun? But I would not want to deprive you of any pleasure. It may be healthy for you, in fact."

Lorenzo merely sat back and allowed the old man to talk himself into agreeing.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Father Gregorio gave his consent.

"Very well. I shall like to hear of Senorita Bilbatua's progress, keep me informed Lorenzo."

Lorenzo felt a pang of relief strike his core as he lowered himself to kiss the cardinal's ring.

"Thank you, Your Grace."

* * *

"Ines?"

Her eyes flew wide open and she scrambled for cover. Lorenzo was startled as well, he had not expected such a violent reaction of surprise. A yelp escaped from her as she tried to shield herself from him. He felt his heart lurch for the poor girl cowering in front of him.

As soon as he got over his initial shock, Lorenzo slowly began to move closer to her.

"Ines, it is I, Father Lorenzo. I have come to bring you home."

He stayed silent for a few seconds, allowing his words to sink in. Soon enough, Ines lifted her frightened gaze to meet his and he saw wonder there.

"D'you mean it? Do you really mean it?"

He smiled a sad smile and unconsciously cherished the admiration that reflected in her hazel eyes. He offered her a hand, which she gladly accepted. Lorenzo pulled her to her feet, noticing how light she was. Her hair was snarled and ragged, skin caked in dried blood and dirt. It was hard for him to remember how she looked in her portrait in Goya's studio.

"Can you walk, Ines?" Lorenzo asked softly.

She bit her lip and nodded.

"Thank you so much, Father. Thank you…"

"Hush, child. There are some things I must explain to you before we leave. I am taking you out of here under the assumption that I have seduced you. The guards are under that impression, so we must be convincing." He whispered, eyes darting around the dim corridor. He made quick work of unfastening her shackles as she mulled it over.

"I do not mind, as long as we get out of here." She said honestly. Lorenzo was pleasantly surprised at her backbone.

"Very well, madam. Lean on me, and remain silent."

She wrapped her arms around his waist beneath his thick cloak as he strode steadily along. The soldiers standing guard around every corner froze when they saw her being taken away, but Lorenzo's quelling stare silenced their questions. She was inwardly grateful that the man who was her savior was mildly terrifying to encounter. His robes billowed behind them as he moved, there was a sense of austerity in his expression.

Ines vaguely wondered if he was pretending to look annoyed, or if he actually was annoyed.

By the time they finally reached the first floor of the Holy Office, she was out of breath and wheezing pitifully. Lorenzo stopped so she could regain her breath. After weeks of virtually no exercise, her muscles had gone limp and weakened.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

"Yes, I am now. I'm ready." She looked determined to see herself out of this fiasco. He had to admire the way she carried herself considering everything she experienced. He kept his arms snugly around her to help her along faster, he wanted to avoid running into any of his peers in the halls of the office.

Lorenzo and his prisoner were admitted outside surprisingly quickly. He had been expecting more of a struggle to get Ines out. The monk at the door simply glared at him and fixed Ines with a foreboding look as he pulled it open.

"Prepare yourself, it is rather bright outside."

"Alright."

She squinted so that her eyes would not suffer too much from the impact of the glorious sunlight. Then he stepped out with her in tow, and Ines felt like she had been reborn.

"Oh…" She gasped lightly.

He frowned. "What is wrong?"

Ines was silent for a moment. The whole world seemed to slow to a halt.

"I never thought I'd live to see the sun again, that's all."

That tiny remark touched him deeply. He was suddenly glad to have been someone's savior, even if he had other selfish motives at first. Remorse followed inevitably after.

"Come, we shall take my carriage to your home." Lorenzo motioned to the awaiting horses that were impatiently chomping at their bits.

She grinned, the realization that she was going home finally hit her.

They clambered in, he helped her get settled comfortably in the seat and then they were off.

About ten minutes later, Ines broke the silence.

"Father Lorenzo? I am eternally grateful for all that you have done for me. I was wondering, was there something I could do for you in return? That is, if you did not already have something in mind…No matter what, I intend to make it up to you." Her voice was fiercely dedicated for such an emaciated, exhausted girl.

"Actually, I am to tutor you in the ways of Christianity, according to the Grand Inquisitor. I had neglected to tell you earlier, I am sorry."

A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"Well, then, I am obliged to accept. When shall we begin?"

He thought she would have shrunk away from him, especially after her recent experiences with the Church, but he was swiftly learning her character. He found her to be delightfully headstrong even in the direst circumstances.

"Ines, we shall begin once you are well rested and healed. I shall visit you regularly, and when I feel you are adequately prepared, we shall begin."

Tears sprung to her almond shaped eyes at once.

"You are so considerate, Father. I thank you a thousand times."

He reached across to her and patted her small hand, mesmerized by the way the light set off her eyes.

"You are welcome."

The rest of the journey was swathed in silence, but he found he could not take his gaze off her no matter how much he tried.

* * *

Lorenzo was forced to put aside any thoughts of Ines Bilbatua for the rest of the month because he was assigned to teach seminars on how to identify heresy in public places. He tried to be as honest as possible, but he was somewhat distracted by images of hazel coloured eyes.

He found that he could not wait any longer. At the first opportunity he had, Lorenzo took his carriage to the Bilbatua's estate and requested an audience with the family. Tomas Bilbatua was profuse in his thanks, the man offered him the finest wine and food he had. Maria Isabel, his wife, kissed his hand piously and smiled at him with clear joy in her face. The Bilbatua brothers bowed respectfully to him.

Unfortunately for him, Ines was nowhere in sight.

He gazed all around, trying not to seem too blatantly obvious.

"Ines is practicing the piano forte in the drawing room. I shall show you the way," Maria Isabel said graciously, gesturing him in the right direction. He followed her down the hall, running his eyes over the intricate tapestries hung along the walls. Quite soon, he did indeed hear music emanating from a room to his left.

Maria Isabel entered the drawing room and clapped her hands twice. He was immediately stunned when he saw the girl he rescued from prison, for he could hardly recognize her. Three weeks of rest and proper nutrition worked wonders over her.

Her hair, previously tangled and dirty, was now shiny and lustrous, her angelic curls seemed to frame her heart shaped face. Her skin was a healthy peach, two spots of lovely color glowed on her cheeks. Her eyes, once dull and glassy, were alive and sparkling as they took him in. Lorenzo was breathless with an emotion he could not identify.

"Father Lorenzo!" She cried in a voice that was less rusty sounding than before. She promptly rose from the piano and hurried over to greet him. Ines bent to kiss his hand, he watched as she brushed her lips over his skin and felt quite bewitched by her touch.

_Stop it, you lecherous man. She is but a child!_ Lorenzo chastised himself as he stared into Ines' radiant face.

"I trust you are feeling well?" He ventured.

She nodded thrice and smiled, revealing two rows of clean teeth. Maria Isabel excused herself reluctantly, she sensed that Lorenzo had important matters to discuss with her daughter.

"Oh yes, sir, very well indeed. I owe my wellbeing to you. Have you come to begin lessons?" Ines queried. He marveled at her astuteness, she seemed so eager for 're-education.'

"At first, I had come simply to check on your recovery, but as I can see, you are quite recovered."

Her eyes darkened a bit at that.

"Maybe on the outside, yes. My arms have marks though, and the physicians tell me that they are permanent."

He felt a rush of contempt for 'the question', since he now knew what it felt like too. He pitied her, for he knew she bore it for a much longer time than he was capable of.

"I am sorry, my dear."

Lorenzo could have sworn that there was a flush of delight in her expression when he called her that, but later he attributed it to his own overexcitement.

"Think nothing of it, Father. I am here now, thanks to you. Now, where shall we begin?"

He chuckled in spite of himself.

"Have you an available study we may adjourn to?"

* * *

Ines could not sleep, could not breathe, could not close her eyes without being accosted by memories of the mild-tempered priest she had come to love. She scarcely knew him, but she knew she loved him because he had bothered to go out of his way for her. He was truly a reflection of God on Earth; he had shown her such consideration.

Not to mention the fact that he was older than her by quite a few years, she had not yet reached her twentieth year while he must have been at the very least five and thirty. He was by no means classically handsome, but she fancied the thought that his dark looks complemented her own reputedly unusual beauty. She adored his dark eyes, the strong line of the bridge of his nose, his expressive eyebrows, and his dry, kissable lips.

Ines told no one of her secret infatuation. She had no desire to end up in jail again, despite all evidence to the contrary. She was content to daydream and imagine things, especially since she got to see him on quite a regular basis. He was always gentlemanly and chivalric, and her parents seemed to like him very well.

She read all the sacred texts he lent to her, devoured his every word, and obeyed his every command simply because she could not bear displeasing him.

And if she were a perceptive woman, Ines might have noticed that Father Lorenzo was just as smitten with her as she was with him. However, she was too modest to admit that she recognized the looks he sent her way occasionally.

Every time Ines prepared herself to see him, she made sure to take extra care in grooming. Her chestnut curls were tamed and arranged becomingly, her skin glowed happily as her ladies-in-waiting attended to her clothes. She selected a gown of dusky rose damask, with an under gown and petticoats of pale ivory. Precious jewels adorned her slim neck.

Ines stared at her reflection in her handheld mirror and was compelled to smile. She was very lovely; she felt that even Lorenzo would not be able to resist her. As most young, lovely women did, Ines wanted something to happen that day, something significant. She knew how she felt, how did _he_ feel about her? She desired to gauge his behavior.

He arrived promptly as usual, at two o'clock sharp in the afternoon. He made a habit of coming during everyone else's siesta, she was the only one awake to receive him usually. The servants led him inside as she waited for him in the foyer. Ines appeared gracefully poised as she stood in the center of the hall, smiling openly as she regarded him.

"Buenas tardes, Lorenzo." Ines murmured unassumingly. She sought to charm him, to really capture his heart. She curtseyed traditionally, mindful of the plunging cut of her dress and the way her bosom looked. Her eyes were downcast, her lashes casting crescent shadows upon her cheeks.

"Good day, Senorita Bilbatua." He sounded rather somber.

The smile on her face faltered as she rose from her curtsey.

"Are you alright, Father?" She backtracked from her earlier coquetry, sensing that he was not in the appropriate mood at the moment. This seemed to put him more at ease as she read the expression in his eyes.

"Yes, yes, I simply have been preoccupied with many complex issues, my dear," Lorenzo said dismissively, "Are you ready for your lesson, today?"

Ines felt mildly insulted that he did not deem her worthy of confiding in with his preoccupations. She did not want to put him in a worse mood though, so she bit her tongue and plunged on.

"Of course. Come with me." She smiled again and calmly began walking in the direction of their library. He maintained a steady pace beside her as he kept his hands clasped firmly behind his back.

Ines took this opportunity to casually glance at him sideways at random intervals. Lorenzo looked drawn, a little worried, and she could have sworn there was a bead of sweat on his brow. He did indeed look preoccupied, probably with matters of the Inquisition, she remembered with a pang of involuntary fear. She then scoffed at herself inwardly, Lorenzo was different. He had a conscience, with good morals and straightforward beliefs.

She pushed open the wooden door wide enough for both of them to pass.

Absentmindedly, she wandered inside and stood by the wide window that offered a view of their estate's gardens.

There was a moment of silence, a silence so thick that Ines thought she could take a knife and slice through it. Lorenzo stood somewhere behind her, she could feel his distinct presence as he moved a little closer.

"You…" He faltered. She did not turn around as he continued. "You are far too beautiful, Ines."

At that, Ines startled. She was completely caught off guard by his compliment.

"My good sir, you flatter me too greatly. I have a neck that is far too long and eyes that are unfashionably dark. What say you, now?" Her tone was soft and teasing as she spoke.

Ines turned her body and was surprised to find that he was in rather close proximity to her. There was a smouldering look in those intense eyes of his, a nearly predatory look as he seemed to lean down. Lorenzo was fearfully silent, but he had such a look of intensity about him that she unconsciously sucked in a tentative breath.

"What are you doing?" She whispered for fear of her voice breaking.

He looked tormented as he replied.

"I know not, my dear, my lovely girl…"

She stared hungrily at his lips as they neared her, all she had to do was stand there, against the wall and wait as he softly, oh so softly pressed his lips over hers. She discovered that the feel of him was quite nice, his lips were smooth and pliant. Lorenzo kissed her probingly, yet gently, it was as if he were trying to sample a taste of her and nothing more.

He pulled away quickly just as fast, in a flash of disbelief, her eyelids shot wide open.

"Why did you stop?" She hadn't meant to sound so disappointed, and the cool effect she was aiming for failed miserably.

"This is wrong, in the name of all that is holy, this is wrong!" He whispered sadly.

She recoiled at his harshly chosen words. She side stepped him and felt her heart beat increase with agitation. Ines knew his character well enough to see that he could not get past the issues of immorality to ever consider her as a woman. Realization also came careening back into her previously clouded head. _Once you are a priest, you serve God for life! _

After a moment of terrible indecision, Ines knew she had lost in her endeavor to have the man she desired. She silently conceded defeat, acknowledging that their attraction could never be nurtured into anything more. The idea of anything more would be enough to get them both killed. Once again, she cursed herself for her selfish, naïve stupidity.

"Then I shall pretend it never happened. Come, maestro, we must continue with today's gospel, I believe." This time, Ines' words were perfectly composed and showed none of her inner turmoil. Lorenzo stared at her in shocked awe before he snapped rigidly into acquiescence.

"Very well. I believe that would be the best-" He paused and stared at her entrancing caramel eyes, "For the both of us, of course." He added for good measure. She was forced to nod, appearing quite certain, despite the fact that she felt such intense agony within herself.

They carried on as if nothing were amiss, as if student and teacher had not just overstepped a very delicate boundary. Ines struggled to maintain a stoic façade and found that if this was what she would have to deal with, she'd rather go back to prison.

* * *

Two months had passed quickly, March had arrived in all its glory. The flowers in the gardens were beginning to blossom and the greenery seemed to burst into growth. Ines diverted her most troublesome thoughts by focusing on tending to the roses. She adored the vivid colors of the fragrant flowers, especially the white ones that looked as if they had been artfully dipped in a bowl of scarlet paint.

No one questioned her sudden interest in gardening, her father and brothers dismissed it as a woman's tendency. Her mother, however, realized that her daughter was hiding something from the world. One afternoon after Ines' lesson with Father Lorenzo, Maria Isabel confronted her daughter before she could retreat to the solace of her rooms.

"Wait just a moment, my dear. I had Catalina prepare tea for us. Would you care to join me?" She called out as she neared the grand staircase.

Ines was already halfway up, yet she could not find it in her to refuse her mother. It had been a very long time since she had socialized with anyone and that included her friends and family. She accepted graciously and made her way back down the stairs.

The two women walked to the reading room where they both took a seat at the little table in the center.

Maria Isabel studied her morose daughter carefully. Ines had gradually grown into quite an introvert, which was strange because since she was old enough to talk, Ines had always been very opinionated. At first, she had not thought that it was a becoming habit for her only daughter but her husband encouraged that particular trait enough that she accepted it and even came to cherish it.

Now that Ines was exceedingly reticent and appeared to be lost in her thoughts most of the time, Maria wondered what the cause of such a drastic change might have been. It had been a long time since Ines returned from prison, she seemed to be very much over that traumatic experience.

Within seconds, the woman could see rather clearly what may have been bothering Ines. She decided to test the waters.

"Ines, I have spoken with your father quite often about your marriage prospects. You are very eligible as you are certainly old enough to be married, and we think it is time for you to become a wife."

She immediately saw the flash in her daughter's eyes as she talked of impending marriage. _Aha! That must have been it._ Maria thought satisfactorily.

Ines opened and shut her mouth wordlessly, it seemed that she was rendered speechless.

"Your father has plenty of connections. We have so many choices before us. Since we have this rare luxury, you have the privilege of choosing to whom you wish to be betrothed."

Ines regained her senses and managed to choke out, "And who, pray tell, are these bachelors who wish to take me to wife?"

Maria allowed herself a small chuckle, she interpreted Ines' shock as relief.

"Oh my dear, did you honestly think your father and I would allow you to become an old spinster? I know you are older than the average bride, but I assure you that a good match will be made for you, my precious one."

Ines clenched her jaw, but this went unnoticed by Maria, who was caught up in her excitement. At that moment, Catalina had popped in with the tray of tea things, but she was irritably dismissed by Maria. She promptly exited the room once again and tea was completely forgotten at this point.

"Mother, please tell me, who am I to choose from?"

"Well, there is Carlos Villalobos from Seville. Your father does much business with their family, it is a known fact that they are wealthy and well-liked by His Majesty. There is also Marcos Olavide, I believe you have met. He was always besotted with you. There is Valentin Galiano, he is very handsome and in high favor with the king. There is-"

"Stop! I beg you, stop!" Ines cried out, her hands flying to her head. She held her head in her hands and propped her elbows up on the table.

Maria was decidedly surprised at the violence of Ines' reaction. She expected joy, not sorrow.

"What is wrong, Ines? They are all respectable men who would provide you with security and wealth. I promise, if you prefer none of the ones I have already named, I could ask your father to search more-"

Ines grimaced painfully and held out the palm of her hand.

"No. I want no one, mother. Your concern is unfounded, but nevertheless appreciated."

Silence encroached upon them. Maria Isabel could not understand her daughter's reaction at all.

After several seconds of uncomfortable quiet, Ines decided to confess her troubles to the only person who might have understood.

"I do not want any of those men because I already know who I want."

The older woman's brow arched at that.

"Is that so? Do I know this fellow or will you have to introduce me to him? Someone you met at the tavern perhaps?"

Ines shook her head furiously at that.

"No, no, mamma. You know him quite well, actually. Oh but I know you and papa will not agree to it. I myself cannot agree to it yet I find that no matter how impossible it seems, I want him more than I have ever wanted anything in my entire life! It hurts to think, to breathe, knowing that I'll never have him. I'd rather die an old maid than marry someone else."

"Now you are just being overly dramatic." Maria stared skeptically at her.

Tears stung her eyes at her own mother's doubt. She bit them back (something she was becoming rather good at, of late) and drew in a shaky breath.

"I love Father Lorenzo, and I wish to be his lawful wedded _wife."_

This soft yet convincing proclamation knocked the wind out of Maria Isabel Bilbatua. It was now her turn to gape like a fish out of water.

"You must be jesting!"

Ines laughed bitterly, "No, indeed I am not. Now do you see why I am so vexed? I cannot live in innocence as I did before. I have been tainted by the Holy Office, first by the accusations of heresy against me and now by a ghastly love for the man who was my savior! I cannot escape it, believe me, I've tried ever so hard! But every time I see him, my heart seizes up so tight I fear it will stop dead."

"This is blasphemy, Ines. You silly girl…He does seem very fond of you as well, he might even enjoy your affection for him and take advantage of it. Please tell me that you have not allowed such a dastardly thing to occur! Tell me that you are untouched by any man, or you will be ruined."

Ines growled and banged her fist upon the table.

"He is far too honorable a man for that! He was never inappropriate with me, he never did anything that might have inspired my affection other than his natural tendencies and disposition! That is why I love him so!" She shouted, uninhibited now that she had professed her secret. "Oh, mamma, I shall die of misery!"

Maria Isabel was about to speak once more, but she paused as she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye.

Ines stopped too and turned in the direction her mother was staring.

It was her father, who appeared as if he had just been kicked hard in the gut. His eyes were clouded by what looked like a haze of anger mixed with confusion.

"How long have you been standing there?" Ines whispered fearfully.

"_Long enough." _Tomas said in an emotionless tone. He took a step backward and fled the room as Maria immediately rose up and hurried after him, clutching her heavy skirts so she would not fall.

Ines rose slowly as well, passion drained suddenly from her petite body. She was alone, but now the tears refused to fall. Instead she was left with a feeling of hollowness that made her acutely aware of the ache inside her bosom.

The sound of footstep made her glance up to see her elder brother Luis moving toward her. He wore an expression of exasperation and sympathy as he held his arms out to her. She ran to him unrestrictedly, into his kind embrace and then she found that she could finally succumb to tears.

When she had stopped trembling, Luis gazed at her and told her they had heard everything.

"I speak the truth, I love him, I swear on Jesus' sacred wounds that I do." She said, burying her face in his thickly padded sleeve.

"I believe you, _chiquita_, I do. But I cannot say that it is acceptable. Why do you love Father Lorenzo when there are so many other suitable candidates for your hand?"

She had to grin at the silly nickname he had used for her since they were small children.

"I do not know how I came to love him so thoroughly, my brother. If I could do it over, I would surely trade this agony for happiness as some other man's wife. But I cannot, and I am stuck with it," Ines knitted her brows together, "If love were a choice, who would ever choose such exquisite pain?"

He sighed and gathered her up in his arms again, hoping he could ease his younger sister's heartache with silence and a warm hug.

* * *

A/N: Wow, that was LONG! I hope it was worth reading. Anyway, please review if you wish to critique or offer advice on how I can make this fic better. Thank you!


	2. Chapter 2

"The Sick Rose"

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Goya's Ghosts, Ines Bilbatua or her family, or Father Lorenzo. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: The title was borrowed from William Blake's gorgeous poem.

_O Rose thou art sick.  
The invisible worm.  
That flies in the night  
In the howling storm:_

Has found out thy bed  
Of crimson joy;  
And his dark secret love  
Does thy life destroy.

A/N: Thank you Victoria Venom and Jareth's Genevieve for reviewing. Your inspiring words mean so much to me, and I'm so glad that I'm not the only one who saw the potential between Ines and Lorenzo! And sorry for the wait, please enjoy.

* * *

Chapter Two: Repercussions

* * *

It was a cool day, unusual for the late spring, but nevertheless it was appreciated by the young girl who had taken the opportunity to go riding. She was alone, but the solitude suited her and allowed her to clear her muddled mind of all the nonsense that plagued her. She rode a well-built mare with a gentle disposition, both rider and horse were very well suited to each other as they rode alongside the small creek in the clearing behind the Bilbatua's estate.

Ines had nearly mastered the art of self-control. It was a considerable feat, the girl never had to restrain herself before her imprisonment, she laughed and flounced about as she liked. Ever since her arrest and detainment, she had grown cautious to the point of being paranoid and rarely left her home except to attend mass. Her parents and brothers had given up on trying to coax her out of her shell only to find themselves on the receiving end of a sharp verbal attack.

It was as if she were measuring every breath she took, so slowly did the moments pass. It seemed that even time now depended on the span between the cursed priest's visits. She hated that she was so enamoured with him, and she could not bear to give any indication of her lovesickness. She'd made a promise that she'd never acknowledge her feelings again, and so far he had not cracked either. It would be a dying shame to lose her composure in his midst. And Ines would be damned before she showed any sign of weakness before he did.

"I don't think I can look him straight in the eye anymore, Conchita." She murmured, stroking the horse's mane affectionately.

Ines knew that in an hour's time, she'd have to accompany her mother into the city. They were going to the dressmaker's to select some new fabrics to be used in the making of new gowns. At first, Ines declined her mother's invitation but after her incessant nagging, Ines acquiesced and figured that one afternoon of fabric shopping could not do much harm as long as she did not draw any attention to herself.

With a grim smile settled on her mouth, Ines set off at a trot back to the stables.

* * *

The ride into Madrid took longer than anticipated thanks to the unusually large amount of traffic crowding the streets. Ines stared impassively out of the carriage's window and rested her chin in the palm of her hand. Maria Isabel was fidgeting in her seat, complaining about the congestion of Madrid's shopping district under her breath.

At last, the carriage halted and the two women were helped out of it by the driver. Maria Isabel instructed that they should wait for them and when the bewildered driver asked when he should arrive, the older woman threw her arms up exasperatedly and cried, "Use your best judgment!"

Ines threw him a look of sympathy and made sure her mother was out of earshot when she whispered to him, "Just wait around the corner somewhere, and I'll come out and wave when we're ready to leave."

"Thank you, miss." The burly driver sighed gratefully.

Ines chuckled a little and promptly followed her mother into the shop. Inside, there was a gaggle of pompous girls around her own age. At her sudden appearance, they all turned along with their respective mothers and ran critical gazes over them. Ines was unnerved by their cruel stares, they reminded her of vicious harpies that would feast upon any insecurity she showed them.

So in response, Ines squared her delicate shoulders and greeted them with a little quirk of her lips, a gesture that displayed her self assurance. Maria Isabel politely stepped past them and found the dressmaker behind a large mound of new cloths in the back workspace. The matron surveyed the several different mannequins, which were fitted with some of the dresses she had ordered, and enthusiastically greeted the woman with kisses on her cheeks.

"Alma, I cannot express how anxious we are to inspect your creations. I trust all is progressing quite well?" Isabel queried kindly, running her fingers softly over a sample cloth of powder blue silk.

The woman named Alma was a robust elderly lady, with rosy cheeks and a wide smile that made Ines feel instantly comfortable.

"And here is the lovely little thing, at last! Oh, how I've longed to see you. I remember when you were just a little maid, and now you are a grown woman." Alma enveloped Ines in a friendly hug. She was startled but not repelled, Alma reminded her of a doting grandmother somewhat, with her excessive displays of affection.

"Yes, and this young lady has a very special commission for you." Isabel added glowingly.

At that, both Alma and Ines turned to her in confusion.

"And what is this commission you speak of, Mama?" Her daughter asked warily. Her eyes had narrowed in suspicion, and deep in her heart she realized what was about to unfold.

"My daughter has recently become engaged to be married to the heir of the Gutierrez family, Carlos Hernando. The wedding will take place in the late summer, if all goes well, because Carlos is overseas at the moment. We are awaiting his portrait still, but we are told that he is as quite an Adonis." Isabel spewed forth, ignorant of Ines' stricken look that quickly turned into rage.

As Isabel and Alma prattled on about what a couple they would be, Ines turned her back and contemplated this atrocity. Why did her mother wait until this moment to inform her that she should expect to be Senora Carlos Gutierrez by July? She had explicitly emphasized her strong desire to remain unmarried or she would suffer from eternal unhappiness. Apparently, her parents had contracted her for marriage without any regard for her welfare.

As dismayed as she was, Ines attempted to explore the benefits of marrying Carlos Hernando. He was the son of a wealthy aristocratic family, and their union would strengthen her family's position. She would never have to worry about money or security. She would have no title, but that did not matter to Ines. And best of all, she could be a good, dutiful mother to her children.

When Alma bustled over to her, babbling incoherently about the infinite number of garments she would set to work on for her wedding trousseau, Ines accepted her embrace gracefully while giving her silent consent to her mother. Isabel saw her daughter nod gravely and while she should have felt happiness and relief, she only felt a pang of guilt.

"Well, enough of this frivolity, I have been hard at work with all of your beautiful dresses! And now you must see the final outcome."Alma announced cheerily, more pink cheeked than ever. She yanked off the cotton sheets that were draped over four of the mannequins.

Ines' breath was stolen by the stunning quality of the garments that were hanging on the mannequins. She was gaping as Alma began to explain how she constructed each one.

The first garment was made of a rich red damask that she longed to reach out and touch. It had a form fitting bodice and a generous décolleté , clearly the hue and cut of the dress was meant to seduce all who laid eyes on it. Ines thought it amazing, but she knew she would not feel very comfortable with all the attention it would attract from the opposite sex.

She moved onto the next one, a day gown that looked lighter and easier to move in. It was a pastel green that looked more subdued and she could imagine herself wearing it. The last two were of similar shapes, both lovely shades of rose and coral that brought a smile to her face.

When Ines looked back at Alma, she praised the woman's undoubted skill and thanked her profusely for the gowns.

"It is my pleasure that such a lovely maid shall wear my creations." Alma demurred fondly, beholding Ines' chestnut curls and pleasant expression. Isabel thanked the dressmaker once more and informed her of the payment details before mother and daughter exited the shop.

"Wait here, mother, I will fetch the carriage." Ines said tersely as soon as they were outside.

"Now, don't be cross-"

"I said wait!" Ines raised her voice with flashing eyes.

Without waiting for her mother's response, she strode quickly down the crowded street in search of their carriage. She scanned the area, unable to see their driver anywhere and with dismay, she realized that he must have given up trying to find a place to wait and simply abandoned them.

She faltered and was suddenly overtaken by a sense of acute despair. Standing still in the middle of a bustling avenue, Ines felt more alone than she'd ever felt before even when she lay chained to a wall in a dark, morbid cell. She was nearly shivering, her body suffering from the effects of shock. She did not want to marry a portrait who would never love her. She wanted the man who looked at her with that intoxicated fusion of desire and hesitance. She longed for his warm lips, his gentle words and smoldering eyes…

Just then, Ines lifted her haunted eyes randomly to a store across the road and noticed that it was a book store. How odd that it was situated in a district full of shops for women's apparel.

The door of the aforementioned shop had a door was pulled open and out came Father Lorenzo, clutching a few heavy volumes in his arms, and looking as somber as ever in his borderline threadbare cassock. She laughed sadly at the irony of it. Of course God would taunt her with the sight of him during her moment of weakness.

He was searching for his own carriage as well, faintly acknowledging those common folk who had the decency to greet him respectfully with a tip of their hat or slight inclination of their heads. She could not tear her eyes away, and she doubted he would notice her when so many swarmed past.

Ines watched him climb into his awaiting coach and settle into his seat. When he was comfortable, he seemed to exhale in a sigh and rubbed at his eyes. How she wished she could erase those lines on his forehead, ease his stress with her loving touch, but somehow, she believed this would be one of the last times she'd lay eyes on him.

Just before the driver flicked the whip, Lorenzo peered out the window and was surprised to see Ines standing in the middle of the street, staring right at him. He smiled at first, and then frowned at the expression on her face. She looked broken, fragile, as if the vast crowd of people threatened to swallow her up and bury her alive. His heart swelled with pity and he was compelled to jump out of the carriage to talk to her.

Before he could yield to that impulse, Ines turned her back and hurried down the street, disappearing around the corner. He would never forget the wounded look on her face as she escaped from his sight.

* * *

The next day, after several arguments and heated debates between Senor Bilbatua and his strong-willed daughter, the spacious manor was all but silent. Each member of the family was brooding some way in different sections of the house, Ines was embroidering a handkerchief with angry, measured movements. She sat in her bedroom, reclined comfortably upon a chaise chair, with her feet crossed.

Her ladies-in-waiting were careful to leave their sullen mistress alone, until her foul temper dissipated. The thoughts that flitted through Ines' mind continued to replay themselves over and over, tormenting her with images of the impending future with Carlos Hernando Gutierrez in France, where he apparently spent most of his time.

She had seen his portrait that her father had finally procured and had to admit that he was indeed a handsome man. He had fair hair and bright eyes, a strong jawline and nose, a pleasing mouth, but his appearance did not move her. It was rather like a sculpture, something unfeeling that could never summon any love for her.

Ines' hands had stilled and she threw her work aside in a fit of frustration. She shot up and paced the room a few times, biting her bottom lip. It felt like her body was a vessel for a thousand conflicting emotions that she had no control over, and she was subject to every little bit of it. A growl escaped from her as she tore over to her window where she could hopefully fix her gaze on something and calm herself.

It must have been hours that she stared outside, staring at the plants, the birds that flitted from tree to tree, and the fountain that spouted water serenely in the center of the richly paved road.

Her method of relaxation took its intended effect, soon Ines' racing heart had slowed to a normal pace. She ran the back of her hand over her tired eyes and shut them. When she opened them again, she spotted a carriage pulled by two elegant stallions approaching the manor at a relatively quick speed. She couldn't believe it, only one person arrived in so dark a manner.

She dashed out of her room and down the long flight of stairs that led to the front entrance of the house, mindless of her tousled hair and flushed cheeks. She had an overwhelming urge to see him personally, their encounter in the street in Madrid had been entirely dissatisfactory. She remembered belatedly that they were indeed supposed to have another lesson today but somehow it had previously slipped her mind.

Ines unbolted the door and tugged it open just in time to see Father Lorenzo coming to the doorstep with a number of heavy volumes in his hands.

"Buenas dias, Padre." She greeted cordially enough.

He looked taken aback at her formal greeting, as well as the way she half hid behind the enormous door that was only open halfway.

"Hello, Senorita. I trust you are available for your lesson today? I have new books to share with you."

She paused, uncertain of what to do or say.

"Oh, really? Is that what you had purchased when I saw you yesterday?"

She heard him laugh softly, his rumbling baritone sending a foreign but welcome tremor down into her belly.

"Why yes. What a coincidence that I should see you thus. Now are we to continue conversing in this bizarre manner, or are we going to adjourn to the study?"

Feeling silly all of a sudden, Ines blushed and pulled the door open more fully to allow him in.

When Lorenzo entered the otherwise silent house, he immediately asked about her family. She told him that they were all in good health, but her parents were visiting with guests in the city and her brothers were out and she had no idea where they were.

After that, he seemed to be a bit more guarded as they began the walk to the study. Lorenzo kept his eyes focused on the space ahead while she attempted to do the same, every once in a while they would sneak a glance at the other and if they were caught, they would quickly avert their eyes.

"Yesterday, Ines, I could not help but notice your unhappiness, even though I was so far away from you I knew something was bothering you. May I enquire as to what troubles you?"

Even she was surprised that he even bothered to ask.

"Nothing that concerns you," She immediately blurted, and then she remembered her manners, "Father."

He still was not convinced.

"Please, you may tell me what burdens you, my dear. I am God's servant and through me you might find comfort."

She almost laughed at his sincere words.

"I am to be married. I was upset yesterday because that was when my mother first told me of my betrothal. I will be gone to France by July."

Ines crossed her arms belligerently and waited for a reply. Lorenzo looked at her with a strange air of disbelief, as if he had just hallucinated what she said.

"You are…to be married? To who?" He cried, momentarily forgetting himself.

While his momentary lapse of priestly calm broke, Ines seemed to grow more irritated with every question he asked.

"Why should you care? It does not concern you."

"But I do! Don't you see? That is exactly the problem. I care too much!"

"I don't believe you."

"You must! You must-" Lorenzo gripped her shoulders roughly and shook her, uncaring of how her skin suffered from his treatment.

"No," Ines flung herself from him and swatted his hands away.

Their brief altercation had left them both breathless and panting, Ines was flushed with anger and one of the sleeves of her dress had slipped off her shoulder, revealing a hint of alluring flesh to his hungry eyes. Her unruly curs framed her face, inadvertently emphasizing her emotional state. Blood rushed through his head and made him dizzy at the sight of Ines, undone and exposed to him.

Neither knew what possessive force overtook them in the moment, but in a flash, his lips were attacking hers with a passion he had never felt in his entire life. Her own little hands clutched at his broad chest, his back, his shoulders, his cheeks, tempting him with their frenzied sweetness. He got lost in her soft lips, her husky moans and distinctly solid body pressed against his.

She was now backed up against a bookshelf, his hands pinned her wrists above her head as he observed her doe-like eyes that were full of fire. He thought his face must have mirrored hers in every manner. She flicked her tantalizing gaze from his eyes to his lips and then his eyes again in a way that made him groan impatiently and kiss her.

Moments passed in a blur, all she could remember was the tangle of limbs and the heat they created, scalding and volatile in its intensity. Her body was strung tight as a lute begging to be stroked and caressed by him, something which he was only too willing to do.

"I cannot." Lorenzo whispered, his forehead resting on hers. "I cannot."

Tears filled her hazel eyes when he spoke, making him regret what he told her.

"I know. And I am contracted now, I practically belong to him already."

"You have enchanted me, Ines, in body and soul. If you marry another, I shall die. Do you hear me? I cannot live when you are married to another man." His voice was tremulous, so he gave up on all words and simply kissed her again, delving into her sweetness with abandon.

As euphoric as kissing Lorenzo was, Ines had to give him a slight push in the other direction. He looked flustered, his cassock rumpled where she had held him, and his lips were bitten from their kisses.

"Stop, then. Please, do not torment me with this, Father." Calling him by his title felt like a slap in the face. He grimaced in pain.

"God give me the strength to leave you!" He cried, tearing toward the huge desk on the other side of the study. The gaping distance he put between them left her feeling sadly bereft. Somehow, Ines felt that whenever he was away she was missing a piece of herself, and she could never be whole now that he stole it.

"God give me the strength to withstand your scorn!" She shot back angrily. There was so much frustration inside her that was begging to be unleashed, Ines was unaware that the dam of her fury was about to be released; not necessarily at Lorenzo, but also at her mother, father, and her fiancée whose face she had only seen on a portrait.

The prospect of leaving for a cold, distant land where she knew no one including her husband-to-be, whose only interest in her was the alliance he would forge with her family loomed over her, pressing down and suffocating her with its enormity. Suddenly, she couldn't breathe, whether it was from anxiety or the tightness of her corset was debatable.

Ines stumbled a few steps and then fell forward on her knees, breaking her fall with her hands. She landed with a loud thud, letting out a small yelp at the impact on her limbs. Her vision blanked out unsteadily as she rolled onto her side, trying desperately to inhale and exhale.

Lorenzo's own anger dissipated as soon as he noticed her fall, he was at her side in an instant. He propped her up in his arms, frantically trying to assess her condition. When she choked out, "Corset!" he flipped her over and without any further thought, tore off the top part of her dress and found the source of her discomfort.

His clumsy fingers worked mercilessly at the offending garment until it was completely untied and it released her torso. With a relieved gasp that felt like her first real breath in hours, Ines coughed and shut her eyes against the overwhelming feeling.

"Thank you."

"I can never understand why women torture themselves by wearing these..." He murmured playfully.

Ines tried to sit up, but forgot that her dress was completely undone. Before Lorenzo could stop his wandering eyes, he could almost see the top curve of her breasts and he drank in the sight of her delicate collarbones, so pale and smooth. He could only stare at her, fear pricking his heart because in that moment he knew he loved her more than he loved God, more than he could ever love anything or anyone again.

Her face betrayed her inner conflict, while she clutched at her clothes.

"I may not be the brightest pupil you have ever had, Lorenzo, but I will try to say what I feel in the most eloquent manner I can manage. For some inexplicable reason, I have grown to love you with such a depth that I know I will never love my husband, or any man as much as you."

Lorenzo had no reply for her. He reached for her and kissed her, pouring everything he felt into the caress of her tongue and the dizzying sensation of her warm skin beneath his hands.

When they broke apart, there was a suspicious gleam in his eyes.

"Would you come away with me, if I asked you?"

"What?"

"Well, would you?"

She bit her lip, unknowing that the tiny gesture was enough to make his desire flare up.

"I would go to the ends of the earth for you."

He smiled, his teeth a little crooked, she noticed, but it made her heart flutter.

"I can get enough money and we can go to the countryside, spend our lives together. I have enough to provide for you and any children we might have, Ines." His zeal made her giggle, "We have to leave quietly so that your parents don't find out… And I can easily get away from the Grand Inquisitor. The man is hopelessly senile."

"That is blasphemy, Lorenzo! If we're caught...You could be executed." She said cautiously, haunting memories of dank prison cells flitting through her mind.

He instantly looked apologetic and ensconced one of her hands in his.

"I am sorry, Ines. It still pains me to remember your incarceration."

She shook her head dismissively, and then raised his hand up to her lips where she kissed it gently.

"Promise me that you won't abandon me."

"I can never, Ines."

They looked at each other for a moment that seemed to last forever, until there was a series of knocks at the door that made them startle. Ines hurriedly slipped into her dress again and he silently began to fix her corset. When she was fully dressed again, they stood and she helped him straighten out his cassock.

Dashing to sit at the desk and flip open a random book from the top of his pile, Ines quickly made to appear as if she were doing something constructive while Lorenzo called out, "Enter!"

The door was opened and revealed the timid maid Catalina, who asked if either of them wanted anything to eat or drink. Lorenzo replied no while Ines asked if she could bring some _tapas_ and hot tea to the study in the most firm voice she could muster.

"Yes, miss." The maid curtseyed and was gone, but she had noticed her mistress' burning cheeks and unusual jitteriness. The priest looked imperious and stoic as ever, but even Catalina could surmise that something was out of place between the pair. Despite the distance between them, Catalina swore that they looked guilty as if she had walked in on them having a go at each other.

She had paused before entering the study earlier when she made out some noises of an altercation. Frowning, Catalina had pressed her ear to the door in an attempt to listen to the fight. When she heard the words "come away with me" she almost fainted in shock. If Ines deserted her family just after her impressive betrothal, the Bilbatuas would be the laughing stock of Madrid! She prided herself on being loyal to the family, after all. She couldn't allow Ines to shirk her duties as a daughter by running away with another man- a priest, no less!

As she walked to the kitchens, Catalina decided she finally had something interesting to report back to her master, El Senor Bilbatua.

* * *

TBC…

A/N: Dun dun dun… Will Ines and Lorenzo be discovered by her father? Stay tuned to find out!


	3. Chapter 3

"The Sick Rose"

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Goya's Ghosts, Ines Bilbatua or her family, or Father Lorenzo. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: The title was borrowed from William Blake's gorgeous poem.

_O Rose thou art sick.  
The invisible worm.  
That flies in the night  
In the howling storm:_

Has found out thy bed  
Of crimson joy;  
And his dark secret love  
Does thy life destroy.

A/N #2: I'm having such a great time writing this story, but I'm trying not to get carried away with the emotions, I was alarmed to realize that Ines has enormous Mary Sue potential, therefore I have attempted to make her more human. Also, due to one of the reviews, I was reminded of Goya's relationship and sort-of obsession/love for Ines. :D I incorporated him into this chappy. BTW, this chapter has two parts but I'm uploading the second part later. Let me know how I did!

* * *

Chapter Three: Jasmine and Gardenias

* * *

When Lorenzo's decision was made, he knew there could be no turning back. Commitment was required, if he were not sure of the situation, he wouldn't have put his neck on the block like this. Everything was worth it, the prospect of leading a simple, idyllic life with Ines made him light headed.

They would live away from the madness of the city, rife with vices, prostitution and decadent people. He wanted to escape from his life in the church, no longer did his duties as a priest seem as fulfilling. The floggings of accused heretics once made him fiercely proud, Lorenzo reveled in the glory of it. However, Lorenzo was uncomfortable with the brutality of the Inquisition now. His relationship with the girl had made him starkly aware that not everyone rotting in those cells was guilty of their alleged crimes.

He could not go on living such a blatant lie. Of course, Lorenzo still believed in God, but he silently condemned the actions and corruption of the Catholic Church. Hypocrisy was too rampant within the hierarchy, and the Grand Inquisitor allowed it because he wished to remain at the top. Disgusted, Lorenzo knew that he would have to scrape up whatever money he could get and take Ines as soon as possible before she was married off to the Gutierrez heir.

Quickly but not too suspiciously, Lorenzo moved along the dimly lit corridor, down the staircase, careful not to miss any of the steps. Ironically, the subterranean parts of the Holy Office were quite dilapidated despite the church's frequent monetary collections. Clearing his mind of all other distractions, Lorenzo unlocked the bolt of the door at the foot of the stairs and let himself in very slowly and quietly. The torches within the room were barely enough for his vision but the light reflected off the several mounds of gold and other such fineries. He took a few handfuls and stuffed his pockets, the strangely thick lining of his cassock, and made sure that none of it could fall out or make any noise as he walked.

_If I take this much every day, it should be enough in a few weeks' time…_He thought seriously, his heart hammering in contradiction when he imagined the loveliness of Ines' face. Little by little, he would siphon money so that the difference would be nearly undetectable. However, with each day that passed, he could not help but feel like he was living on borrowed time.

Maintaining a relaxed pace back towards his private chambers, Lorenzo contemplated the entire situation with languid regard.

He spoke to no one, and kept contact with Ines at an absolute minimum. Sometimes, he would visit the manor but always under the pretense of saying a private mass for the family. If he was lucky, he would speak to Ines very briefly after and swiftly slip her a written message that she could tuck inside her sleeve. Very rarely did he get any replies other than her wistful glances, it was simply too risky and she did not want to chance getting caught.

Besides planning their escape from Madrid, Lorenzo also spent a lot of time in deep prayer and meditation. He would kneel for hours, running his fingers gently over the rosary and reciting every prayer he knew in Latin, Greek, Spanish and French. He was trying desperately to keep up the image of his previous persona, reminding himself to appear as a bigot and overtly pious so no one could question him.

In reality, Lorenzo felt as if he had finally regained a piece of himself that he did not realize he was missing. The exhilaration that coursed through him made him look forward to what was ahead, and the days no longer dragged as slowly as they did before. During the nights, his feverish imagination conjured all sorts of delirious hallucinations, ones that sent shivers of lust rippling down his spine. In the darkness of the cloister, he would imagine Ines beside him, stroking his cheek and whispering soft words to him. He could almost feel the smooth palm of her hand, he could nearly smell her jasmine perfumed skin.

He often wondered if this was insanity, but he eventually decided that this was far too sweet a feeling to be madness. Unfortunately, along with his swelling optimism, Lorenzo grew to miss the young girl enormously. He longed to see her, even to get a glimpse of her, but that was a pleasure he could not afford yet. Everyday, he reminded himself that once they were married, he could look at her as frequently as he wished for the rest of their lives.

Finally, he was inside his rooms where no one could intrude upon him. He made his way over to his bed and pushed the whole thing aside. There was a loosened stone in the floor that he could remove, that was where he stored the money. Besides his entire life's savings, he kept some personal items in there as well, such as one of Ines' handkerchiefs that she had given him and other keepsakes. Without delay, he stashed the three small burlap sacks full of money in the opening and replaced the stone over it. He shoved the bed back in its rightful position and collapsed upon the straw mattress, grimacing at its stiffness. Closing his eyelids, he drifted off into a peaceful sleep, feverishly imagining Ines' honeyed voice.

* * *

"Ines! My favorite girl-" cried the artist, hopping down from his ladder to greet her enthusiastically. He quickly pecked her on both cheeks and looked her over. Goya had not seen her personally since that terrible day she disappeared yet he had negotiated most imperatively for her release. He was the one who had begged Lorenzo on her family's behalf to spare her from the horrors of the Holy Office's dungeons.

And now she was back and looking simply lovely, and he could paint her as he had always done before.

"You've not changed at all, Francisco." Ines remarked bemusedly. She took off her dainty gloves and held them in her hand as he took her parasol and insisted that she took a seat in his studio. He had prepared a chair for her in the small garden in his courtyard, one of her favorite places to linger simply because it was walled off and serenely private.

They stepped through the white French doors, Goya politely helping her pull her skirts through the doorframe to avoid getting stuck, and then she settled into the chair as he readied his easel and other such materials.

"I am dreadfully curious as to how everything turned out, my girl." Goya murmured distractedly as he searched for the appropriate paintbrush. Ines stifled laughter as he tripped over his own foot, stumbled across a slightly elevated cobblestone and then finally swiped the brush he was searching for.

"I would be right to tell you to shove off," She giggled with a twinkle in her eyes.

With an indignant expression upon his face, Goya stared at her and then raised a thick eyebrow. He set about mixing his paints and then beginning with the background; starting with the rose bushes and the brick wall behind Ines.

"I'll have you know I was beside myself when you were taken. I had no idea that the Holy Office would go to such extremes. Were…" He paused in his flurried mixing, staring bleakly at the half empty canvas instead of her. "Were they cruel?"

She could barely hear him, but she could discern the apparent guilt written into his countenance.

"Francisco, for Heaven's sake, am I not alive and healthy before you at this moment? Wake up, man, I am fine and I wish to move on if you do not mind." Ines sought to sound reassuring, mildly flustered, but it came off as snappish. The hand that held the brush froze midair and his face immediately molded into an expression of contrition.

"I'm sorry, my girl." He offered meagerly, hand still floating in the space between him and the canvas.

Ines had no reply, how could she? No words could assuage the tormented painter, she knew this well so she simply sat and waited for him to begin his work. Soon enough, Goya had come back to his senses and his hand was furtively traveling from his palette to the canvas and back to the palette again.

It was several more minutes before either of them spoke.

"Francisco." Ines called him out of his reverie suddenly.

"Yes, mija?"

"I wish to confide in you a matter that has been weighing upon my mind for the past months."

The abruptness of her tone completely shooed away the heady swirl artists feel whilst painting their muses, therefore, he was forced to concede defeat and listen.

"And what does this concern?"

Her eyes flicked uncertainly from side to side and her bottom lip quivered. Francisco's mouth ran dry, the beauty of his muse never failed to confound him. At rare times like these, he often wished he could ravish her senseless for the sheer pleasure of feeling her tremble sweetly.

With these intoxicating images in mind, he almost missed what she confessed.

"I am running away, Francisco, and I need whatever help I can find."

He frowned deeply at that. This prospect was entirely incongruous; he never imagined that she would say something as radical as this.

"What?"

"You heard, I am leaving, quite soon too. I have told no one but you, do I have your word that you'll not tell another soul?" She was fierce as a lioness when she commanded him, he was taken aback.

"Ines, this could be very dangerous."

She rolled her eyes and tilted her head, causing her mantilla to fall off and reveal her high forehead and finely arched brows.

"I know this. But the cause is worth dying for, Francisco."

He coughed skeptically, "And what might that be?"

There was tense silence, a pregnant pause that ensued before she piped up.

"I am marrying the man I love." The statement was delivered defiantly, like a prisoner's last words just before their execution.

"Ah." The artist said, placing his palette on the small wood table he had dragged out into the garden. He thoughtfully rubbed the bridge of his nose as he moved to stand in front of the difficult girl that occupied his dreams and every waking thought.

"Mija, how many years have you?"

Ines' nostrils flared mutinously. "Enough to know that this is what I want."

"Really? And who is the lucky man you love enough to throw everything away for?"

Goya had sauntered up quite close to her, his lanky frame imposing over her especially since she was seated. His words turned to seriousness, because it was no time to be mirthful, he had seen and experienced enough of the world to know the way things usually turned out and he'd be damned before he allowed Ines to ruin her life on account of sheer stubbornness.

"You do not need to concern yourself with his identity. Just know that he will make me happy, and he is a good man." She couldn't meet his gaze. The gesture alone betrayed everything she told him.

"Really? And how long have you known him? Weeks? Months? Have you planned your marriage? Where you will live? Because if you stay anywhere near Madrid I must warn you that your father has excellent resources and he will track you down sooner or later. Have you considered how much money you two will have? Will it be enough to live on? How will you make more to support yourselves later? How-"

She faced him squarely and looked at him, stopping him dead in the middle of his tirade.

"Of course I have considered these things," Ines growled, "I came to you for your support, not your disdain."

Goya said nothing, he towered over her, furious that she would not listen and insanely jealous of the man she intended to elope with. A beat passed and then he was himself once more, albeit with a weary sadness in his demeanor. Ines stood and placed a gentle, gloved hand on his forearm.

"I thought you would understand…"

And then she disappeared, leaving him with nothing but an empty heart and a half painted canvas, the haunting scent of jasmine and gardenias left lingering in his midst.

* * *

TBC……

A/N: I'm sorry for the long wait! I'm insanely busy!! Please let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

"The Sick Rose"

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Goya's Ghosts, Ines Bilbatua or her family, or Father Lorenzo. I also borrowed the title of this fic from William Blake's lovely poem. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: Okay here's Part two of Chapter Three! Once again, sorry for my lateness, I am a horrible writer when it comes to deadlines...But if you feel so inclined, please drop a review and tell me what you think! ;D

_O Rose thou art sick.  
The invisible worm.  
That flies in the night  
In the howling storm:_

Has found out thy bed  
Of crimson joy;  
And his dark secret love  
Does thy life destroy.

* * *

Chapter Three Part Two: His Little Rose

* * *

Time had rolled remarkably fast, along with the winds and seas which bore Carlos Gutierrez back to Spain. He disembarked from the ship with steady feet, although he was glad to be back on solid land after so many weeks on board a wooden vessel. The port of Cadiz was bustling and lively, full of bickering merchants who for the most part recognized him and his men as a sign of absolute nobility even though the Gutierrez heir was really also just a tea merchant.

He had just arrived from London, overseeing the progress of trade, and in England, he had learned more about the French Revolution and its atrocities. He was appalled to hear the madness that overtook the peasants, how King Louis and his family were captured. Most of France's aristocracy was wise enough to flee before the onslaught of violence could reach them, but woe betide those who did not get out in time!

Carlos moved warily throughout the port until he reached the street where his carriage awaited him. He did not trust these dirty peasants, they had such a hungry look in their beady eyes but somehow he knew they were not hungry for food alone. If incited, he believed these people could rise up and revolt at any time especially if they discovered the details of what happened in France.

"To the manor, hombre." He demanded distractedly after boarding his carriage. He was still suffering from a slight bout of dizziness, there was no sign of it receding anytime soon. Carlos could still feel the rocking of the waves as the carriage jumped along noisily over the cobblestone streets.

After fighting another wave of nausea, Carlos imagined returning to his palace and his large, spacious bed where he could hopefully sleep it off for a few days. Then he remembered that his parents planned for him to meet his bride and the sickness seemed a bit farther off than it did before. He too had seen her portrait, painted by Francisco de Goya himself, and his breath was stolen by the beauty of the girl. She wore a black mantilla, but the gauzy material did not distract from the grace of her cheekbones and almond shaped eyes. Her lips were red as cherries, and her smile seemed to emanate such light that even the canvas seemed divine to him.

He fell asleep, heading bobbing up and down against his chest, dreaming of his wife-to-be.

* * *

It was a humid day, although it was still late spring, the weather was showing signs of heating up early. The Bilbatuas had boarded the family carriage and ventured into the city for morning mass in Segovia Cathedral. As usual on Sundays, the church was utterly packed with rich and poor alike who attended mass from a mixture of devotion and fear, or both. Ines and her family were entitled to sit toward the front of the pews, it was as if there was an invisible sign reserving the seats.

She felt a stab of pity as she walked past a small boy who was dressed in shabby clothes, sucking his thumb shyly while he tried to make himself less noticeable by hiding behind his mother's skirts. The gaunt appearance of the little child moved Ines almost to tears, through his eyes she could see the poverty of all the lower classes. Often times, Ines would behave indifferently toward sights like these but this morning, she was compelled to ask her father for some coins to give to the child and his mother.

As her mother, father and two brothers took their seats, she slipped away and walked to the back where the little boy stood. Holding her hand with the coins out, she smiled gently and greeted them both.

To her astonishment, the boy's mother shielded him even more fully and insisted that they could not take the money.

"But it is nothing, I wish to help you!" She cried vehemently, forgetting they were being watched by some of the Jesuits who always seemed to be listening for irregularities such as this. Ines wanted to kick herself, she should have known better than to raise her voice in the cathedral.

Several members of the congregation were already staring at her and neither mother nor child had accepted her offering.

"It is very kind of you, miss, but we do not need your money." The bony little child piped up, urgency shone in his eyes. It seemed as if these people would rather refuse attention than accept money they desperately needed.

Ines straightened up as if she had been burnt, and quickly retracted her hand. She silently walked back to her seat and realized mass was about to begin and the procession was nearly started. Upon lowering herself into the pew, her mother leaned over and chastised her.

"It is not fitting for ladies of your stature to associate with such lowlifes, Ines. I thought you would have known better."

Ines blushed angrily but said nothing, the incongruity of what her mother said made her unspeakably ashamed that she was blessed with money while that little boy probably went to bed hungry every night.

"And in case you have not noticed, your betrothed sits not far. He is just returned from England."

Ines followed her mother's line of sight and recognized Carlos Gutierrez, but she had to stifle a gasp at what she saw.

His portrait could not have been more deceitful in regards to his appearance, for he was fat as a pig and had virtually no neck, there were fleshy folds that occupied the space between his chin and the top of his chest. The eyes that had been so blue and shining were beady and small, the color barely discernable from where she sat. He was dressed in finery but what good was regal dress when one was fat as a cow?

Ines was torn between laughter and weeping at the sight of the Gutierrez heir. Who would have known he was so hideous? Yet she kept her reaction under control and whispered to her mother, "He is very stately."

Maria Isabel exchanged looks with her husband but no one said anything as the priest stepped up onto the high altar and began the mass.

Lorenzo hid in the darkened lofts of the cathedral, watching the Bilbatuas as they attended mass. He could not take his eyes off of Ines, this was the first time he had seen her in weeks. By now, he believed he had enough money for them and the time was drawing near. The constant elation that trilled through him at the thought of their impending escape left him exhausted, but now when victory was so close he could think of nothing else.

The mass passed swiftly, time was collaborating with him. Somehow, Ines knew he had been there the whole time. She met his eyes, their gazes transcending the distance between them. He tried to keep himself as hidden as possible while at the same time willing her to stay behind so that they could have a word.

After the mass, he lingered in the shady alcoves, hooded in darkness. His appearance must have been frightful to anyone else, but when Ines spotted him leaning flatly against a pillar, she knew who he was and held no fear in her heart. Ines remained to pray to the statue of the Blessed Virgin to stall for time, she told her family to go home and she would find a carriage herself. When all the people were gone, including the monks and priests, she rose and hurried to the alcove where Lorenzo hid.

"Hello, Lorenzo," She whispered softly, embracing him as fully as she dared.

He stiffened in surprise and then she felt him melt into her arms, as surely as butter melted onto warm bread.

"Hello my dear. You look well," He said awkwardly at first, and then his eyes hardened. "It is time. I am ready."

She knew doubt must have danced across her face, for he immediately looked insecure and tried to backtrack.

"Unless you…Unless you have changed your mind, Ines. Please, if that be the case, I entreat you do not let me carry on with this feeling of such optimism." His voice broke at the end of his sentence.

Ines's heart seemed to skip a beat when she realized the true extent of Lorenzo's passion. He was serious after all. Every niggling fear that plagued her vanished because she was suddenly sure of his intentions. It felt as if the world lay conquered at her dainty feet.

"I still want you, you silly man." Ines smiled, her words soft as a butterfly's footsteps, but they were filled with sincerity that instantly warmed him.

"Let us leave tonight, tomorrow, whenever, as long as it is soon. My betrothed is here in Madrid earlier than expected and he intends to marry me within the month." Her eyes filled with fear at the thought.

Lorenzo, in a fit of pique and fervor, clasped both her hands together and pressed her palms to his lips. She tried to restrain her shiver and failed, he could clearly see she was a hot blooded little thing and he tucked that thought into a corner of his mind to free him from further distraction.

"I will have a carriage ready on Thursday afternoon. Bring very little with you, we shall purchase whatever you lack along the way. And be sure you alert no one, do not arouse any suspicion. I shall try to do the same as well."

She smiled again, that expression that always managed to renew such ardor in his blood .

"I know I will be so happy. I can only hope that I will bring you joy as well."

He kissed her lips then, chastely, which was the only way he knew how to kiss a woman. Nevertheless it conveyed his emotions effectively to her.

"You already have, my little rose."

This time, Ines stood on the tips of her toes to kiss him, allowing her tongue to lightly trace his bottom lip. The gesture was a catalyst to his volatile reaction, he opened his mouth to her and experienced such an immense pleasure in simply kissing her that his knees nearly buckled.

Both were breathless when Ines yanked herself out of his arms. She gazed longingly at his conflicted expression, half wanting to continue kissing him and the other half terrified of being caught within the Cathedral.

"Thursday afternoon. Until then, my love." Ines murmured with a final smack of her lips against his and then she had fled, the bottoms of her silk petticoats leaving a whispering trail behind her as he stood in the alcove alone.

* * *

"Where is the pretty little thing? I have been yearning to meet her ever since I laid eyes on her painting!" A great voice boomed from somewhere downstairs. Ines hid behind the banister, beneath the shadow of a statue in the upstairs corridor. She listened as her parents simpered and made small talk with the Gutierrez patriarch, cringing as she heard all about their enthusiasm for grandchildren.

"She has yet to be seen, where could she be?" called the voice again, the one she assumed was her husband to be.

Maria Isabel excused herself and walked up the stairs, wondering where that stubborn daughter of hers could have gone and was delighted to find her at the top of the staircase, wringing her hands as she always did when she was nervous.

"What if he doesn't like my hair?" She asked weakly, stalling for any excuse to escape. It was only Tuesday, there were two more days before her planned get away with Lorenzo, but she was already embarking on a road toward matrimony with another man.

Before she knew it, she was whisked downstairs where she laid eyes on Senor Carlos Gutierrez and she was once again overtaken by revulsion at the sight of his folds of flesh where a neck should have been. As a trick to make herself behave normally, she imagined the face on his portrait and superimposed it upon his real one. It might have been amusing if it had not been so horrid.

"Hello there, my dear one." The man nearly bellowed, holding out a hand as if he expected to kiss hers.

At the urging of her mother, Ines stepped forward and offered her little hand into his clumsy large one. His lips were like swollen lumps of lard, hot and revolting against her skin. She tried not to flinch in front of her betrothed's parents but she was infinitely grateful when Carlos Gutierrez straightened up and released her arm.

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you at last, Senor." She kept her voice docile and lowered, as well as her eyes. She sensed she gained La Senora Gutierrez's approval through her somewhat over exaggerated show of womanly politeness, yet it achieved its intended effect. Carlos ran his eyes over her form appreciatively, she donned her new rose colored gown that showed off her waist and décolletage. Her mother forced her into it, it was either this one or the daring red one, but Ines wanted to save that one for Lorenzo.

_Dear God, please help us all,_ She thought with fervent urgency as they all retreated into the garden for tapas and tea.

* * *

The next day was absolute torture. She and Carlos Gutierrez toured almost all of Madrid, visiting all the historic barrios and his friends' homes and salons where she met people who did not spare her a second look after she was introduced to them. She spent hours in a carriage, making nauseating small talk with the bear that dared call himself a man, who looked as if he would attack her with his awful mouth if etiquette and social graces did not exist to stop him.

"When we have a son, I shall like for him to be named Paolo Esteban Contreras- Gutierrez. Of course, your maiden name shall be included most likely but it does have quite a nice ring without it."

Ines was taken aback by two things, first, the idea of what would have to be done between them before a son could be conceived, and the second was how typically over thought the child's name was. She did not like it at all but she had to lie for the sake of pleasing him. If this was how he intended to behave with her for the rest of their lives, she thought she would have preferred a talking parrot over him.

Her back ached for when Ines was stressed she tended to tense up very tightly. Her discomfort must have shown on her face because Carlos remarked upon it.

"Oh Chiquita, you are looking very drawn and pale! Where are the little rosebuds of your cheeks? You must be tired. After all women cannot be expected to keep up with a man of my energy!"

Her ears rang painfully, did the man ever talk normally? It was almost like he believed her to be on the other side of the country with the volume he adopted all the time. She was about to tell him exactly what she thought of his voice, his chauvinistic opinions, and his dreadful beady eyes when a cleverer idea occurred to her.

"Indeed, sir, I am feeling quite under the weather. Will you please take me to the tavern in La Plaza Mayor? My brothers will escort me home from there, and I do not want you to go to such trouble on my account, after all, my home is almost outside the city…"

As predicted, Carlos Gutierrez agreed, saying that he would be honored to take her to La Plaza Mayor but really, they both knew he agreed out of laziness rather than gentlemanliness.

The ride to the Tavern took an hour, most of the ride was spent in utter silence. She pretended to sleep so that she would not have to talk to him.

When the carriage pulled to an abrupt halt, she felt one of Carlos Gutierrez's gargantuan hands on her shoulder shaking her awake. Ines blinked rapidly as if she had just been roused from a deep sleep, just to keep up the pretense until the end.

"Thank you very much, sir, I appreciate the gesture."

He smiled, causing his cheeks to pinch unflatteringly. To her surprise, he leaned over and planted a sloppy, wet kiss on what felt like her entire face. When he pulled away, she tried not to look so disgusted and fought the instinct to wipe her chin with her handkerchief.

"Will you see me tomorrow, my lovely? I shall come fetch you in the morning and we can spend the day together again, except this time it shall not be in a carriage. I want to show you my home, your future home and the home in which we shall raise many children."

"Er…Alright. But is it alright if you fetch me after the siesta hour? My mother and I are going to inspect the rest of my trousseau. I want to look beautiful on our wedding day, and my dress is not yet finished." Ines smiled winningly, entreating him to comply with her request.

Carlos pondered the idea and eventually decided it would not hurt to pick her up later in the day.

"Goodbye, Chiquita." He said pleasantly as he could manage. She closed the door of the carriage and watched it drive away and disappear around a corner, exhaling in blatant relief as she took her first real breath in what felt like a century.

Now it was time to carry out her premeditated, ulterior motive. She had not agreed with either of her brothers to meet at the tavern, which was a usual spot where she and her companions gathered for a night of merry fun. She shuddered as she passed the bawdy, darkened place, she no longer wished to go inside as long as she lived. That was where she had been spotted by agents of the Inquisition.

Passing hurriedly, she walked briskly down the cobblestone sidewalk, ignoring the curious stares she was receiving from the passersby. She supposed she looked flushed and excited, she was actually headed in the direction of the cathedral.

Pure, sweet longing drove her to the place that struck fear into her heart. She half admired, half detested the gothic edifice that stood so imposingly in the heart of Madrid, though its spires and ominous archways housed her cherished one.

She drew her traveling cloak about her head, she did not wish to be so conspicuous in a place of so much brown and gray. The rose of her dress would stick out like a sore thumb in such a setting.

After a lot of walking, Ines reached the front steps of the church and debated on what to do next. She made up her mind and entered as quietly as she could manage, ignoring the rapid pace of her heart as she encountered several clusters of gaunt looking monks inside, all eying her with the same scrutiny.

It unnerved her profoundly, by the time she reached the statue of The Blessed Virgin, she was shaking with barely concealed fear.

Ines was beginning to regret coming to the cathedral. There was no guarantee that she would see Lorenzo, he could be anywhere else. She placed the palms of her hands together and prayed to the Virgin Mary that somehow he would find her.

Moments fluttered past. Her back stung, it was so tightly wound up that she felt like ripping off her corset and contracting into a tiny ball.

When all hopes of seeing him vanished, Ines drew herself up and resigned herself to find her way home. She stood, knees clicking uncomfortably from kneeling so long a time.

Her legs carried her outside the cathedral; thankfully all was silent and empty as she vacated the premises. She felt no rush to return immediately in her mournful mood. How she wished it were tomorrow, so she could leave with Lorenzo at last and escape her fate as Senora Gutierrez. She checked herself, she loved Lorenzo with all her heart, but she often wondered if she was just using him as a way to flee. Quickly she dispelled this thought; she truly adored the brooding, dark man that trembled only when she touched him.

Ines's head was filled with thoughts of him, memories of his roughened lips covering hers, so tender and loving compared to Carlos Gutierrez. She faltered in her steps and paused to lean against a wall in a small alley to enjoy her fantasy of undressing Lorenzo, literally and figuratively, stripping him of all defenses and giving herself to him as a wife gave herself to her husband.

When she regained herself, Ines resumed her walk, worried that her parents would fear for her and think she had been abducted again.

She was so preoccupied that she was supremely astonished when a pair of hands grabbed at her and pulled her aside.

Ines tried to scream but a hand clapped gently over her mouth, she frowned when she heard the very voice her ears had been craving.

"Oh, how is it that you always know exactly where I am?" She hissed, planting her hands firmly on his broad shoulders.

Lorenzo, being the infuriating man he tended to be, merely grinned his sharp tooth grin and chuckled fondly at her.

"Your angelic light is impossible to miss, my rose. I must admit that I am indeed guilty. I saw you enter the Cathedral but I did not wish to draw attention to ourselves, so I followed you instead."

Ines giggled heartily at that. As cliché as he could be, she definitely preferred his honest attempts at romance rather than Carlos's suave, oozing compliments.

She wrapped her arms around him and without any further ado, kissed him on his mouth. He stiffened as usual, in surprise, and then parted his lips tentatively to allow her little tongue entrance. A moan resounded in his chest, one that conveyed his pleasure. She, on the other hand, was sublimely happy to have him so near. His persisting surprise at human contact was astounding to her, would her acceptance of him never cease to confound him?

Her lips caressed his in a torrid tango, she kissed him with all the desperation she felt, all the repressed feelings that she could share with only him. How was it possible for her to love someone so fully after knowing them for so short a time? She only hoped he loved her in return as much.

Somehow, she found herself backed up against the alley wall, his hard body pressed into hers as he dominated their kisses. He decided to take the lead, his confidence grew with every sigh and whimper that left her throat. His hands, dexterous and agile, stroked her back through the fabric of her gown.

The frenzy that overwhelmed them was nothing compared to that afternoon in her father's study, these were new heights they were scaling. Her fingers were tangled in his hair, massaging his scalp, tickling his nape. He gasped for air, as well as at the feeling of his beloved woman touching him so intimately, and immediately dove back into her welcoming arms.

"I want to make love to you, Father. Is that acceptable?" she groaned teasingly. Upon her tongue, his title took on a decidedly sensual lilt that made shivers run down Lorenzo's spine.

"I am no priest with you, Ines. I am just a man, and that is all I shall ever want to be for the rest of my life."

She smiled languidly, running her arms down his back and over his buttocks.

"Good. Because a man is what I want. And you are the man I love."

Lorenzo looked at her contentedly, possessively, and with a gleam in his eye that she could not quite place. She smiled at him and kissed the tip of his prominent nose, yet another gesture of human affection that seemed to embarrass him in the most endearing way.

"How are you feeling? It is one more day before we are reborn again, as new people with hope for a better future away from all this."

"I am elated to be near you, but I must admit my day was not so pleasant. I was coerced into spending it with Carlos Gutierrez. He is a very adamant suitor who wishes to court me regularly in the days leading up to our supposed marriage. But he knows not that it is you that I intend to marry."

His blood began to boil at the thought of his precious rose being stolen away by some rich merchant, who could not possibly adore Ines Bilbatua as he most certainly did. He kissed her again but this time it was not gentle, it was rough and probing, as if he sought verification that she wanted him and him alone.

Ines groaned quietly, but this time she raised one of her legs up behind his thighs, instinctively seeking to press his body more fully against hers. His hardened organ that he neglected for nearly all of his life seemed to take on a mind of its own, it reveled in the feeling of being pressed into her leg.

She felt it too, despite the layers of her dress and petticoats and couldn't repress an excited quiver. She ached between her legs in a place she was wholly unfamiliar with, but as foreign as it was, she found herself wanting more and more of it until she was filled.

Her hands moved from his shoulders to the buttons down the front of his cassock, in an attempt to rip the garment off of him. She knew not what she was doing, only that it was quite imperative that she felt his bare skin against the palms of her hands.

Lorenzo's cry of alarm sent pleasant vibrations through her core, although he backed away while panting harshly.

"Not here. I will not take you in an alley way, my rose. You deserve more than this filth," He said passionately, "We shall unite in our home, in our own marriage bed, and then we shall enjoy the pleasure of the flesh."

She pouted prettily, her own breathing quite labored, but eventually she calmed enough to see reason. She removed her leg from his person and smoothed the bustle of her dress down.

"Why is it always the other way around? I seem to be the more spontaneous of us both." She laughed.

Her flippancy reassured him, he did not want her to think he refused her out of spite. Lorenzo shared a look of mutual amusement with her as they straightened out their clothes. They seemed to do that quite a lot whenever they saw each other.

"I should get home." Ines realized when she noticed how swift the sun was setting.

"There is a carriage waiting for you at the end of this street, my petal. Until we meet tomorrow…I shall come to you during siesta, so you can have the maximum advantage in escaping. Please, stay safe." He kissed her hands and gave her a gentle push in the opposite direction.

She smiled once more and was about to turn and hurry to the coach, but a thought occurred to her.

"If we have a son, Lorenzo, promise me you'll not name him Paolo Esteban Casamares."

He frowned, confused at her peculiar remark.

"Never mind, I'll explain later…" Ines laughed. "Te amo, Lorenzo."

"Te amo, Ines. Now go!"

She did not look back as she left the alley, her soul thrumming with optimism. Each time she saw her dear priest she felt as if she drank from a lake of life giving water, never had anything seemed so bright in so shady a place as Madrid.

She fell into real slumber during her drive home, her dreams were of hazy afternoons spent in the fields of the country with her future children. She dreamed of Lorenzo dressed in a layman's clothes instead of a cassock, and how free he would feel without such restrictions upon him all of the time. Ines dreamed of herself in his arms, and of course the permanent scent of roses clinging onto their blissful lives.

* * *

TBC….


	5. Chapter 5

"The Sick Rose"

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Goya's Ghosts, Ines Bilbatua or her family, or Father Lorenzo. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: The title was borrowed from William Blake's gorgeous poem. I'm a horrible person when it comes to deadlines. I'm so sorry about the delay, merry belated Christmas and happy New Year!!

_O Rose thou art sick.  
The invisible worm.  
That flies in the night  
In the howling storm:_

Has found out thy bed  
Of crimson joy;  
And his dark secret love  
Does thy life destroy.

* * *

Chapter Five: Cross the Divide

* * *

The ladies in waiting of Ines Bilbatua watched as their mistress paced ceaselessly up and down the length of her boudoir. She was agitated, certainly, and most presumed the cause of her nervousness was her impending meeting with Carlos Gutierrez. She rose extra early that morning, ate barely any breakfast and spoke to no one. When she did speak, it was in anger.

Only one knew the truth, and it was little Catalina, whose eagerness to ingratiate herself with El Senor Bilbatua drove her to spy on Ines for the past few weeks. She began to watch Ines when Ines was not paying attention, she followed her to the Cathedral and witnessed Ines as she interacted with her secret lover. The night was too dark though, for Catalina to discern his identity for certain, but she knew in her gut who it was.

One night, she snuck into Ines's bedroom and searched for any sign of suspicious correspondence. It took a few moments, but sure enough, she discovered an old coin purse underneath the cushions of the velvet sofa that was stuffed full of tiny pieces of parchment. None of the letters were signed though, it took Catalina a long time to sift through and distinguish what Ines's plans were regarding her future.

Catalina wrung her hands once and quickly pinned them at her sides. She chastised herself, she could not alert Ines that she knew what was about to occur.

"Senorita?"

Ines was startled by Catalina's voice. She was deeply preoccupied with the pad of paper in her hand, she was sketching nonsensical patterns of random objects to pass the time. Her mousy maid stood in the threshold of her bedroom door, clutching a mysteriously wrapped parcel in her arms.

"Yes, what is it Catalina? Is that for me?"

"Si, senorita. It was sent from the studio of Senor Francisco de Goya. There was a note that was sent along with it as well."

Ines received the parcel and quickly dismissed the nosy maid. She knew there was something wrong about her, but she had been loathe to say anything to her father because her ultimately optimistic nature prevented her from doing so.

When she was blissfully alone, she went about unwrapping the package. With clumsy fingers, Ines tore off the wrapping to find that it was a miniscule painting of such astounding dark beauty. Her eyes poured over the piece of art, she was transfixed by the mood of it. The central figure was that of a rose so dark it was nearly black. It was the largest one among the rest of its counterparts on the bush, and definitely the most tragic. Its petals were falling as if it was wilting, and blood dripped from the stem from whence the petals had fell. The background was completely black, it seemed the darkness was bent on consuming the poor rose.

She belatedly realized that this was meant as a parting gift from one of the most influential men she knew. Tears touched her eyes as she recalled their last meeting and the anger with which she lashed out. He truly did care for her, perhaps he even loved her. A shuddering sigh escaped her throat, she must have hurt him so much and still he sent her gifts.

Her guilt was further increased when she opened up the accompanying note.

_A mi querida brujita, _

_I hope this work did not put you off too much. I am so worried about the changes our country is undergoing, I suppose that was the inspiration for my painting. I am confident that you of all people would appreciate it. Please know that I only ever wanted you to find happiness and safety, Ines. Even though this means I will never again hold you in my arms. Make haste when the time comes; escape while it is still possible. _

It was unsigned, as he usually did not sign his written documents. She was stricken by his blessing, and was humbled to discover the depth of his love. She could never let Lorenzo go the same way Goya was releasing her. And most of all, he was right about Spain. She witnessed unease everywhere she looked, in the poor people scattered on the streets, in the patrons at the taverns, in her father's friends who frequently visited. They were all afraid of something unspoken, although there was plenty talk of revolution all the time.

Well, she was taking her fate into her own hands. Silently, she turned the canvas over and noticed that there was a small title written in the corner. It read, "_La Rosa Enferma de Espana."_ Ines remembered the dungeons of the Inquisition, the horrors within, and grimly agreed with the title of Goya's painting.

She glanced at the clock atop the mantle and startled when she realized the hour hand was nearing ten. She was supposed to meet Lorenzo outside her home around the corner where he would be waiting with a carriage. Heady exhilaration coursed through her body as she took one last glance around her beloved room. Ines had already said goodbye to each member of her family, her two brothers, her mother and finally her father. None of them knew it, but Ines made it clear how much she loved them. It was especially hard to say goodbye to her father. When Tomas Bilbatua was not under pressure or angry, he was a very gentle man. No daughter had been more beloved than she by him.

With one last glance, she stole out of the room and tentatively stepped out into the corridor. All was silent in the house, her brothers were attending school and her parents were nowhere in sight. She hurried down the stairs, racing toward the entrance hall. In an instant, she was tearing down the avenue, dodging passersby and wildly looking around for any sign of her dark priest.

She reached the end of the street and moments seemed to fly past due to the quickened pace of her blood flow. Panicked and nearly hysterical, she wondered if he decided against the idea after all. Nevertheless, she turned around and looked everywhere, refusing to give up until someone came to drag her back home.

"Ines!"

A cry from her left caught her attention, he was there, waiting with a carriage as he promised. With merry eyes she set out toward him. She was determined to climb into that carriage and pursue what she was certain would be a fulfilling, wholesome life. As Ines took the life altering steps, images of little children scampering through a blooming meadow flitted in and out of her vision, but the impact of leaving everything she knew behind was at once liberating and terrifying.

He began to reach his arms out to her, his body positioned partially outside of the vehicle, but to her confusion, he quickly withdrew and slammed the door shut. Ines caught his gaze, her consternation displayed openly in her expression. Lorenzo grimaced as if in pain, but he said not a word although she was little more than ten paces away. People from the street paid them no mind. They were mostly oblivious to the drama of the scene unfolding amongst them.

She was so shocked that she could not speak. She could not scream or shout, she could not bring herself to release the heart wrenching wail that was built up inside her throat. In that instant, she realized he meant to drive away, he had cold feet. He could not bear to leave it all behind, as she was only too willing to do moments ago, all for his sake…

And she soon realized why Lorenzo retreated. Some centripetal force yanked her by the arm and she was sent stumbling backwards, losing sight of her lover.

"What do you think you're doing?!" a thunderous voice bellowed into her ear.

Ines might have flinched at the tone of the voice, but as of that moment, her blind fury was overpowering and for once she did not even try to control her temper.

"Let me go! LET ME GO! No! No, let me GO!" She screamed, consumed by some hellish rage that she had never before felt.

Because of her flailing limbs, Ines could not see Lorenzo as he drove away. He peered out of the curtains of the back window, tears in his eyes and his heart splayed open. He spotted the Bilbatua brothers as soon as they came sprinting around the corner and he knew he could not risk such exposure, for Ines's sake as well as for his own. If he was seen with her in broad daylight in an altercation with her brothers, Inquisition agents were likely to hear about it one way or another. What a damned stupid plan it was!

So he was impelled to flee, until he could find a way to come back to her somehow. He knew it would be even more difficult because she would be kept under closer watch and it would be nearly impossible to get any kind of missive to her under such scrutiny. She would just have to trust him again. _Her trust will be enough,_ Lorenzo told himself through his silent sobs, _And her love shall buoy us both through this mayhem._

* * *

Somehow, her assailant managed to restrain her with both arms, and she was held in that way until her grief neutralized her wrath and all Ines could do was crumple into the embrace that suffocated her.

It had been her oldest brother, Alvaro, who ran after her. He was followed by Luis, who watched his sister attempt to beat the living daylight out of Alvaro with her gloved fists. Catalina confided in them, knowing that between the both of them, they had charisma enough to calm her out of her stupor.

"Ines, what could you ever obtain from a senseless elopement such as the one you were planning? Why waste father's connections and mamma's training on something that would bring this family nothing?" Luis reasoned softly.

She looked at him with hatred in her eyes, the look of her face was one of a bitter devil. Dried tears marred her cheekbones and stained her chin. Her bottom lip trembled and a muscle beneath her right eye twitched ever so slightly, all in all, she was a mess.

"I am a woman, the youngest child, and therefore under no obligation to marry to improve the status of our family. Mamma and father have you as heirs, older than I am and more significant than me. I cannot understand why I am to marry first when you two are perfectly eligible bachelors. I want love, what part of that can you not understand? And how on earth did you find out about all this? I told no one!"

The burning fire in her eyes compelled Alvaro to speak.

"These times are dangerous, Chiquita. Marriage at its best is a union between two consenting parties, but in this day and age, our family needs all the political alliances we can get. Your marriage would have paved the way to security for our family."

"Catalina told us everything," Luis added, "Except the identity of your paramour."

Ines froze and stood even more rigidly than she had before. She knew that she had mentioned her feelings for Father Lorenzo to Luis a long time ago, but she did not know if he remembered. Clearly, he did not if he asked her for her lover's identity now.

"Never. I shall die with his name in my heart, no other pair of ears shall hear it."

Both brothers glanced at each other and knew they could not overcome Ines's stubbornness even though they had managed to prevent her from escaping.

"I have chosen not to betray you to either papa or mamma, but I must warn you that I will do everything in my power to keep you in line, do you understand?" Alvaro demanded authoritatively.

At Ines's impetuous silence, Alvaro growled and stamped his foot on the cobblestone pavement.

"I must have your reply, or I will reconsider my generous offer!"

At Luis's coaxing stare, she turned back to her eldest brother and curtseyed mockingly.

"Si, mi hermano. You have my word." She spat as if it were a filthy oath.

When the three of them heard the distant noon chimes of the city's clock tower, Alvaro came back to his senses and whisked his siblings away. On the walk home, he and Luis had to frequently support Ines as she limped dejectedly along. He surreptitiously glanced down at her, finding that the trauma of her separation from her lover was taxing on her strength. It seemed the vitality was draining out of her with each passing second, she was visibly wilting before them.

However, as the moment passed, Alvaro's emotions roiled over and he firmly told himself that this was the right choice. Ines would go through with her betrothal, by _God_, she would if he had anything to say about it!

* * *

That evening, Ines retired early without speaking a word to anyone. She feigned sickness- it began that way at first but soon after she felt a cold, clammy lump in her gut and believed that she really was becoming ill. Her mamma came into check on her at around ten, fussing and clucking about the boudoir.

"All that traipsing about with El Senor Gutierrez is not good for you! I shall have a word with him regarding your fragility. It is only natural that such a petite girl would succumb to illness so easily."

She said nothing more than her discontented grumble from beneath the bedclothes. She found that she could not open her eyes without tears leaking from them.

"Alright, mija, I will quit your room. Please try and sleep."

Once again, Ines emitted a groan and turned over on her mattress, waiting impatiently for her mother to leave and her maids to blow out the candles.

When her room was finally blanketed in darkness, she permitted herself to cry. She thought of only Lorenzo and wondered if her obsessive love was bound to plague her for the rest of her life. Perhaps it would fade in time. If not, she was certain that it would drive her mad.

Her ears picked up a sound of shuffling feet and rustling petticoats.

"What do you want?"

Silence.

"It was for your own good, Senorita." A tiny voice rang out in the obscurity.

Ines froze and sat up slowly. She threw off the blanket and rolled off the bed, standing only in her thin nightgown on the wooden floor of her room.

"You were the one who told them? You?"

Her tone was broken, her voice weak and cracking as she confronted Catalina, the maid.

There was fear shining in the other girl's eyes as Ines approached her. Ines felt a savage twang of pleasure when she saw how the maid's hands trembled at her sides.

"I was protecting your father's honor, Senorita."

The unspoken implication in the girl's words seemed to galvanize a violent impulse within Ines. Before she could stop herself, she slapped Catalina across the cheek, the sound of the blow resounding through the cavernous bedroom.

"May the Devil gouge your eyes while you sleep!"

The girl staggered out, clutching her face as Ines fell back into bed, feeling even emptier than she believed possible.

Sleep evaded her yet again as it had seemed to more and more frequently these days. It was dark and cold. She was tempestuously numb, yet she still deigned to wonder if Lorenzo fled because he was trying to protect himself or if he fled because he knew it wouldn't do for her to be seen running away with him. Did the priest do it out of concern for her or for purely selfish motives?

Tossing in the bed, Ines let out a quiet sigh. She would bear it and move on as always. She would resign herself to a loveless marriage and a man to whom she would always be shackled. It was as simple and difficult as that.

Because of the sudden foiling of the grand plan that had buoyed her through so much time, Ines mused that her life certainly did not lack drama. Burying her face in her feathered pillow, she tried to recall how his lips felt covering hers. She tried to recall his scent, the warmth he exuded and the content sighs that escaped his lips. She clutched desperately at the straws of her memories and came up empty handed.

Ines was so preoccupied that she did not notice the opening of her bedroom door. She remained still as death as an intruder entered, half apathetic and half fearful of who it might be. She felt the mattress beside her sink under the weight of the unknown person.

"Oh, mija, why must you complicate life so?" The voice murmured softly in the darkness.

She recognized it as her father's. She'd been waiting for this confrontation for a long time.

"Ask God why he sent my heart astray."

"I do not believe God sent you astray, mija. I think you and Lorenzo are two complimentary souls who just happened to meet under the wrong circumstances."

There was no stinging accusation in his tone. There was no rebuke or disowning involved. She realized that this was just her father talking to her as if she were human, he knew or possibly empathized with her pain.

The revelation lifted part of the iron band around her heart. Ines gasped hoarsely and turned to face him.

"Oh, mija-"

She launched herself into her beloved father's arms and finally began to cry.

* * *

TBC…

* * *

A/N: I know…Why can't they just run away already??! *evil laugh* There's more, don't worry. Stay tuned please!!


End file.
